


T is for Templar

by chileancarmenere



Series: Alistair Alphabet [20]
Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:59:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere





	T is for Templar

He’s twelve on their first, ah, _field trip_ to the Circle of Magi. They train the templars-to-be at Chantries all around Ferelden, but there’s nothing quite so effective as seeing the system up-close, at hand. All the recruits swagger around the Tower with fragile bravado, while the mages watch them with suspicious eyes. Alistair can’t help but wonder if he might have to kill one of these mages in the future. The thought of it makes him sick. He’s never wanted to kill another human being.

They are to spend three nights at the Tower, and the first night they are there, Alistair and three other recruits are yanked out of their beds at midnight. All of them are mumbling and confused, and the templar that woke them up explains with a terse face that they are to see their first Harrowing.

What he means by Harrowing, Alistair doesn’t know exactly. The intricacies of the Fade haven’t been explained to him yet. It sounds like the templars are going to put the fear of the Maker into the mage. All that the recruits know about the Harrowing is that it’s dangerous, and mages frequently die.

The Harrowing chamber is shadowy and massive. Alistair shivers; he can feel the hum of magic and lyrium in the room. Ser Greagoir is there, a figure of worship and awe among the recruits, and so is First Enchanter Irving, both looking somber. Two templars enter the room after them, supporting a girl between them with a fierce grip. She has tousled brown hair and her eyes are still cloudy with sleep. She looks both baffled and terrified.

Irving takes her by the arm, more gently, and leads her to a fount in the middle of the room. It glows slightly, and Alistair feels that this is where the lyrium hum in the room comes from. She hesitantly reaches out and touches it.

The room is lit with a blinding flash, and Alistair covers his eyes with his hands. The templar who brought them up puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, and when the light clears they see the girl, standing stiff and straight, frozen at the fount.

Alistair doesn’t know what they’re waiting for. Minutes pass as they all stand at attention, waiting for a sign that he can’t see.

The lyrium in the fount begins to glow more brightly. The girl shakes, the first movement they’ve seen. A low rumbling comes from her, a sound that she could not possibly make. Her skin ripples, something so odd and horrifying that Alistair shudders. Her shoulders stretch, her back arches, and she _expands_.

Ser Greagoir draws his sword. “Kill it!” he shouts at the two templars beside her. They both draw their swords and with a quick, assured motion, run her through. The girl-abomination shrieks and contorts, blood and lyrium leaking out of her till she falls gracefully at their feet, shrinking back to nothing more than a girl.

Alistair wants to look away, but the hand of the templar, once so comforting, has become a vice grip. “Keep watching,” the templar says, lowering his face to Alistair’s. “This is what it means to be a templar.”


End file.
